


show me

by reginagalaxia



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Not-too Rough Sex, Yakuza-owned Demon AU, bottom Iwaizumi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 11:09:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13657785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginagalaxia/pseuds/reginagalaxia
Summary: A rival yakuza family's demon, Oikawa Tooru, has been making Iwaizumi Hajime's life difficult. He soon finds that there are better ways to resolve their disagreements than just physical fighting.





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**Author's Note:**

> Commission for [Tooru](https://twitter.com/cool_toru) based on their [amazing character designs](https://twitter.com/cool_toru/status/939146667332460544)! Thanks again for commissioning me :D

Iwaizumi grunts his displeasure, but quietly, since his mark is making his way down the street below.

He isn’t pleased because the rival gang’s demon, Oikawa, the one responsible for this particular turf, is somewhere nearby—Iwaizumi can smell him. It makes his job infinitely harder than he really wanted on a night like this; he wanted to get in, escort his mark safely, then fuck right off.

The bonus of being a yakuza-owned demon is that most of the members, at all levels of the organization, fear him. They try to hide it, to act tough, but it’s a poor show; Iwaizumi’s senses are far superior to their own. Every time he enters a room, it’s _rank_ with fear, this particular brand of uneasiness that Iwaizumi really isn’t motivated to dispel.

Oikawa, however, doesn’t fear him. Oikawa _taunts_ him, tries to play with him, and it’s infuriating every time they cross paths. Iwaizumi’s tail twitches in irritation at the thought.

Despite all his posturing and preening, Oikawa unfortunately happens to be very adept at killing members of yakuza families, which is exactly how Iwaizumi found himself acting as a glorified guard for targeted members of the one that owns him. Glorified guard or not, he’s going to do his job, and _well_ , no matter how hard Oikawa and his stupid long legs try to thwart him.

Now is hardly the time to be thinking about the hip and thigh exposed by Oikawa’s outfit, but it’s hard not to. For all his attempts to actively dislike Oikawa, Iwaizumi can’t control his hormones. The few occasions that he’s had to fight Oikawa have been viscerally satisfying, making his blood sing from more than just the physical exertion. The heady scent of him, the strength in his body—and well, there’s this awful smirk he has that lights up his golden eyes like nothing else, but only when he’s cornered. Iwaizumi hates it all. He _wants_ it so badly, but he hates it.

Iwaizumi vanishes into a puff of silvery smoke, reappearing on another rooftop to keep up with his mark. The mid-level boss is a fast walker, and hyper-vigilant, it seems, probably because the idea that his safety is in the hands of a fearsome otherworldly being isn’t reassuring. It isn’t to most humans. Iwaizumi huffs a little laugh, but sobers quickly when he senses Oikawa moving closer. He can’t sense his presence quite yet, but Iwaizumi’s always had a better sense of smell than anything.

On the balcony just beneath Iwaizumi’s perch, Oikawa materializes, standing with his hip cocked as the wisps of teal around him dissipate.

“Oh, how nice to see you!” he says, somehow making a gently tilt of his head seem condescending. Every muscle in Iwaizumi’s body tenses, right down to his fists. He shifts his weight to the balls of his feet, poised to leap at Oikawa should he make a move for Iwaizumi’s mark.

He’s barely had the chance to shift his gaze before Oikawa appears directly in front of Iwaizumi, knocking him onto his ass. It’s an embarrassing gaffe, but Iwaizumi springs to his feet immediately after, grateful for the gentle slope of the roof giving him a small height advantage. Oikawa leans forward, entering Iwaizumi’s personal space, smirk growing dangerously.

Iwaizumi’s senses are flooded with Oikawa, incensing him, driving him mad with a cocktail of rage and desire. He takes a swing at Oikawa’s face, snarling when Oikawa dodges with a giggle, of all things.

“Oh, Iwa-chan, that’s not very nice, is it?” he purrs and Iwaizumi is momentarily disarmed by the idiotic nickname. Oikawa had come up with it the last time they ended up brawling, and it’s just as stupid to hear the second time as it had been the first.

“That’s not my fuckin’ name,” Iwaizumi says through gritted teeth, reaching forward to grab Oikawa’s wrist. He’s not getting away this time, no sir. Iwaizumi’s tail whips around his body and curls around Oikawa’s other wrist to keep him grounded and stop him from dematerializing; it’s a useful tool, and Iwaizumi’s favourite to use. A lazy smirk sprawls across his face, and Oikawa’s grin falters for a moment.

“Oh? That keen to keep me around, huh?” he purrs.

“You _wish_.”

“Then what?”

Iwaizumi uses what little leverage he has to pull Oikawa to the side, unwrapping his tail and disappearing. He reappears a block down, frantically searching for his mark. The man is almost at his destination, thankfully, and not worse for wear. Oikawa appears moments after, knocking Iwaizumi down to the gravel roof and kneeling over his chest.

“Here I thought you wanted to play!” he chides, yelping when Iwaizumi wraps his legs around Oikawa’s waist and flips them over. Iwaizumi is pleased to see Oikawa looking ruffled, for once, though it’s not long before he recovers and retaliates. It’s a half-hearted attempt at sparring, with neither of them really trying, and Iwaizumi isn’t sure why. Maybe he is, deep down, and it becomes a little clearer when his back hits the gravel again, and Oikawa’s thighs are framing his shoulders. He winces, hissing from the pain of hundreds of sharp pinpricks running up the length of his body. Iwaizumi’s eyes catch on the high-cut suit that leaves the entirety of those flawless thighs exposed. He swallows, knowing that he’s losing to his baser instincts. His hands twitch to touch, to feel that skin—

Oikawa leans in closer, expression unreadable. At some point, Iwaizumi’s breathing has picked up, but he’s pleased to see that Oikawa’s has too. Once the haze of fight-fueled adrenaline fades in this space between heartbeats, Iwaizumi comes to realize that Oikawa isn’t taunting him here, at least not in the way he normally does. His body is warm, _too_ warm, and he’s moved too close to be able to engage Iwaizumi in combat.

There’s a certain glint in Oikawa’s eyes that makes something coil in Iwaizumi’s gut, hot and dangerously promising. A corner of his mouth tilts up at the sight before him, and he drags the tip of his tail up the side of Oikawa’s body. The shiver that draws from Oikawa is intoxicating, and that’s all it takes.

It’s past the time of thinking, of loyalty, or whatever other bullshit that keeps them on the straight and narrow—Iwaizumi turns off the part of him that keeps reminding him that he can’t stand Oikawa, and gives into the part that wants him. Oikawa reaches this conclusion earlier, dipping in to lift the veil over Iwaizumi’s face and crush their lips together. It’s all force and no finesse, and the molten heat in Iwaizumi’s blood ignites. He nips at Oikawa’s plush mouth, sharp canines catching on the smooth skin and drawing blood. Oikawa moans, almost reluctantly, and Iwaizumi takes it as encouragement to keep drawing out those sounds. His tail coils around Oikawa’s waist, coaxing him closer, roughly encouraging him to get out of his squat and get comfortable.

Oikawa pulls back from the kiss, lips a ruby red, slick and curved dangerously. He rearranges himself so he’s straddling Iwaizumi’s waist, slowly dragging his nails over the thin fabric of his outfit. It’s a new, altogether welcome sensation that goes straight to Iwaizumi’s dick, and despite his attempt to hold it together, he shudders visibly. His hands find their way to Oikawa’s pale thighs as though magnetized, and he digs his fingers in, loving the strength in them.

“Never thought you the type for exhibitionism, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa purrs, flicking one of Iwaizumi’s nipples through the fabric. It’s unexpected, and Iwaizumi’s squirms violently, wanting to wipe the sudden smugness off of Oikawa’s face. Bastard. He tightens his grip on Oikawa’s waist.

“Jackass,” Iwaizumi grits through his teeth, transporting them both to his apartment with a soft pop. They drop down into rumpled sheets, covers strewn everywhere, and before Oikawa can say anything scathing about the state of Iwaizumi’s tragic bedroom, Iwaizumi grabs the back of his neck and pulls him down. Oikawa’s mouth opens greedily when Iwaizumi licks at his lips, moaning when Iwaizumi’s hands start to knead at his thighs.

It hits them both that they’re wearing too much at this moment, and they start grabbing at the seams and clasps, kissing sloppily as they peel each other out of the frustratingly complex garments and fling them to the ground unceremoniously. The way Oikawa eyes Iwaizumi’s dick can only be described as hungry, his eyes darkening. Iwaizumi’s sick of waiting, however; he curls his tail around Oikawa’s wrist tightly, yanking it to his chest, guiding his calloused fingers to Iwaizumi’s nipples. He makes a low rumble of a noise in his throat when Oikawa catches on, thumbing at the nub before ducking down to lick at it, eyes trained on Iwaizumi’s as he does. Iwaizumi moans, roughly burying his hands in Oikawa’s soft hair, tugging, almost losing it when Oikawa _mewls_.

It triggers something in Oikawa, whose eyes burn with something molten as he stops lavishing attention on Iwaizumi’s nipple and slides downwards. He pushes Iwaizumi’s legs apart, bending to lick a wide stripe up the length of Iwaizumi’s dick.

“Don’t _tease_ ,” Iwaizumi protests, tugging Oikawa’s hair, making his mouth fall open.

“Impatient, Iwa-chan?”

“I don’t have all night!”

Oikawa arches an eyebrow, thumbing at the head of Iwaizumi’s dick. “What do you want?”

“Fuck,” Iwaizumi breathes out.

“What’s that?” Oikawa coos.

“I want you to blow me.”

“Oh. You could’ve just asked.” Without any further ado, Oikawa grasps the shaft, then swallows Iwaizumi down like it’s the easiest thing in the world. His mouth is so hot and wet, and without even meaning to, Iwaizumi clenches his fist in Oikawa’s silky hair, yanking on it. Though the resulting moan and its vibrations make Iwaizumi arch up and swear, he fights the urge to thrust up into Oikawa’s mouth. It’s only fair, at this point. Oikawa bobs up and down slowly, excruciatingly so, making sounds like he’s never tasted anything better in his life, and Iwaizumi can’t wait. The knot in his belly is tightening, coiling tight enough to snap, and he doesn’t want to come like this.

“Stop,” he commands Oikawa, who lifts his head and blinks in confusion. He pops off Iwaizumi’s dick and stares at him, lips shiny and wet, and he wipes a thin strand of spit and precome from his chin.

“Oh?”

Iwaizumi takes a deep breath and points to the night stand.. “Fuck me already. Lube’s right there.”

“ _Really_ impatient! Tsk, tsk,” he chastises Iwaizumi, but reaches over regardless. Judging by the precome dripping from Oikawa’s gently curving dick, he’s eager to get going, too.

The sound of the cap opening is a wash of relief and a thrum of anticipation all at once, as is the cool, slick finger sliding in soon after. It’s too cold to be comfortable at first, but Iwaizumi can handle it—this isn’t slow or romantic. He wants Oikawa’s dick in his ass sooner rather than later, and he wants to get off.

Despite the building tension between them, Oikawa takes his time thrusting his finger, and just when Iwaizumi is about to complain, he slides in a second finger. It’s a good burn and stretch, even better when Oikawa curls his fingers, and Iwaizumi arches off the bed.

“You look so nice like this,” he says, voice low and heavy with desire. “I wish you were always so pliant.”

Iwaizumi opens his mouth to retort, but there’s that insistent rubbing at his prostate again, and the words in his throat collapse into a moan. He levels a glare at Oikawa, one he hopes will inspire a sense of urgency. Oikawa smirks.

“Such a sweaty mess, Iwa-chan.”

“Stop. Teasing.” Iwaizumi grits out, and Oikawa complies, adding a third finger. Iwaizumi’s making an absolute mess of his stomach, dripping wet and ready for Oikawa already. His patience has worn thin, so he smacks Oikawa’s ass with the end of his tail sharply to get the point across.

Oikawa bites back a yelp, eyes widening in a mixture of surprise and arousal. He withdraws his fingers and Iwaizumi feels the loss acutely, grimacing until he sees Oikawa slicking himself up with a renewed fervor. A mischievous smile plays at Iwaizumi’s lips and he smacks Oikawa’s ass again, smugly satisfied when he gasps again, eyelids fluttering.

It’s all the motivation Oikawa needs to slide into Iwaizumi roughly, bottoming out with a deep groan. It punches the air out of Iwaizumi’s chest, dragging out a low, drawn-out moan.

“You take it so well,” Oikawa says, awed. “You’re so greedy.”

Iwaizumi can hardly think, he’s so full and aching for more. He wants to _bruise_. “Oikawa—”

“You want to get fucked, hm?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Iwaizumi breathes.

“What’s that?”

“Yes,” Iwaizumi says with more conviction. “Fuck me.”

Oikawa hums, “Mm.” He presses forward, curving Iwaizumi’s back, sliding his hands across Iwaizumi’s chest. “Okay.”

There’s no build-up, no gradual increase, just a perfect, _brutal_ pace that gives Iwaizumi no time to take a proper breath. He’s panting, loving the burn in the back of his thighs from the stretch, the rough slide across his prostate with every thrust, the lewd sounds of their hips slapping together—it’s satisfying in a way he can’t articulate even if he were to try. The tell-tale tingling at the tips of his extremities starts to spread, coiling deep in his belly, curling his toes as he moans with abandon. He’s losing himself to the sensations, just barely telling Oikawa to go harder before he’s completely gone.

He clamps down on Oikawa as he comes all over his chest, all his muscles tensing impossibly tight. Iwaizumi has no idea if he made a sound or not because hs blood is rushing in his ears and he doesn’t feel _real_. The only thing grounding him is the last few thrusts of Oikawa’s before he comes too, collapsing onto Iwaizumi with a breathy groan. He slides out of Iwaizumi and lets him relax back into the sheets. The sensation of come dribbling out of Iwaizumi isn’t the most pleasant of sensations, but it’s well worth it after the sex of a lifetime.

It takes them a few minutes of heavy panting before they gather their wits about them and Oikawa rolls over and sits up.

Iwaizumi wipes himself off with a corner of his sheets, vowing to deal with that later. He’s boneless. Oikawa sidles up closer and Iwaizumi shoves him away with an amused snort.

“Aw, no cuddling?” Oikawa says through a laugh, getting up and gathering his clothes.

“Not for you, no,” Iwaizumi replies roughly. Oikawa sashays back over to him and captures his lips in a bruising kiss. It leaves Iwaizumi breathless, pressure lingering even after they’ve parted.

“I’ll see you around, then?” Oikawa cocks a hip once his boots are back on, and it’s with great reluctance that Iwaizumi admits to himself that this cocky attitude is sexy. Fucking Oikawa.

“I couldn’t avoid you even if I tried.” Iwazumi offers a lopsided smile, which Oikawa returns with a wink before vanishing.

Iwaizumi knows that this is definitely going to make his life interesting, though he’s not going to overanalyze it. He flops back into his rumpled sheets, satisfied, deciding to leave showering until he wakes. The pleasurable throbbing of his body is something he _really_ wants to bask in for now, and he lets that feeling carry him to sleep.


End file.
